


Lost Travellers

by trepkos



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, F/M, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepkos/pseuds/trepkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did Arthur and Kai's attitudes to the stranger in their midst go through such a sea-change?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A cloaked figure traverses the lonely valley under iron-grey skies, stumbling, as if very weary. At first I think it’s one of the Wood People. But they do not travel alone, and, as we draw nearer, I realise that the traveller’s garb – in a deep shade of blue – is far too rich for one of the children of the forest.

The figure stumbles again, then falls to the ground. With a worried glance between us, we hasten over.  
  
As I kneel beside the crumpled form, I’m surprised to see that it’s a woman: and one of great beauty and refinement. Her honey-coloured hair is long, and falls about perfect features. Her eyes are blue, matching her pale blue dress. Such a woman, wandering alone in this deserted place … well, she’s lucky it was Llud and I who found her, not some wandering rogues or savage Picts.

I feel her forehead. Llud fetches a drink, and I lift her head so Llud can wet her lips. As I look down on her, I wonder what angel has fallen into my arms.

Then she opens her mouth to speak. 

She has no lack of courage – I’ll say that for her; this angel has a harpy’s tongue. To speak in such a way, to two strange warriors … Perhaps she already has the measure of us. Or else she’s merely foolish.

Then what she said registers in my mind. ‘Rome ...’

Has Rome returned to plague us? To subjugate this land once more?

“I was returning there from Gaul, with an escort of soldiers. Our ship ran into a storm. We were blown off course, and wrecked on the coastline. I think I’m the only survivor.”

Oh … just one Roman then. Nothing to worry about. Still … you can’t be too careful. I should find out what I can, while she’s still vulnerable. Arthur will want to know. “How long ago?”

“Two days!” 

You’d think it were I who’d set the rocks in place along the coast, and caused the winds to blow, to strand her here; that I had drowned all her escort with my own bare hands. Not that I wouldn’t drown any Roman who tried to take what’s mine, if I’d the chance.

“I was beginning to think this forsaken country was void of human life.” She looks us up and down, as if trying to decide whether we qualify. “Well. Now you are here. You will be pleased to put yourself at my service.”

Something stirs. I’ll service you any day you like, my pretty one …

“It would be an honour … Princess.”

Seeing me smirk, Llud tries to distract her ... and me. “What you need is a warm fire.”

We raise her to her feet, and walk her to my horse. I am less than respectful, standing too close to her, with my hand on her waist.

She pretends she hasn’t noticed. “I do not ride horses. Fetch me a chariot.”

Having fallen among barbarians, she’s ordering us about as though we were her personal slaves, trying to hide her nervousness with bluster. I decide to remind her that I’m well aware who has the power, and who should be afraid.

“I fear we have no chariots. The Romans used them all, running from our spears.”

Without further ado, I hoist the Princess Benedicta onto my horse, then climb up behind her, and reach round to grab the reins. 

Still, she glares defiance at me; by the gods, I’d like to tame this hellcat.

I smile, and smile, until I see fear flicker in her eyes.

She turns to face forward. 

Poor girl. I won’t upset her any more. I dismount, and walk ahead, leading the horse, letting her have her little victory.

What harm could that do?

~~

When we tell Arthur what strange fish has washed up on our shores, his face hardens. “A Roman?” He flings the boot he was cleaning across the room. “Here, in our village?”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Just one woman, all alone, and in need of succour.” 

Arthur shrugs me off. “And if I thought Rome would extend the same courtesy to us …” He shakes his head. “Where is this …? She’ll be shown no special favour.”

Arthur storms out. I glance at Llud, the question in my eyes. He shakes his head.

~~

Llud and I each take a hard green apple from the bowl as we go past. I offer one to our unwilling guest, but she turns up her nose, and stands in her soiled dress, warming her hands by our fire.

“And you!” she berates the leader of the Celts.

Arthur paces past her.

“Since you seem to be in authority here –”

I nearly choke on a pip.

“Be kind enough to send some messengers to every coastal town within distance.”

Arthur looks at her coldly, and then at us. It strikes me that his stance – thumbs in his belt – speaks, not of confidence, but of its opposite. He still fears Rome: enough that calculated insolence towards those who represent her is his first resort.

“I require a boat to take me back to Rome. Immediately.”

Arthur walks behind her. “The next boat to come anywhere nearby here is the Greek trader.” He’s no happier about it than she.

For myself, despite Arthur’s disquiet, I can’t help finding this whole thing funny. Llud, too, is quietly amused.

“And that’s in … two months from now.”

Benedicta whirls towards Arthur. “Two months!”

Arthur smiles slightly. 

“And what am I supposed to do in this pigsty of a village until then?”

Arthur’s mood, already frosty, solidifies to ice. “I’m sure you’ll find that everyone in this pigsty will do their best to make your stay here as pleasant and as comfortable as possible.”

Benedicta sighs. “Very well.”

This woman has a dragon’s hide, impervious to Arthur’s ire. Not so myself. He looks delicious when he’s angry – if it’s not with me.

“Since there’s no help for it. I shall need servants. Living quarters with heating. Facilities for hot water. Fresh clothes.” She looks at her own in disgust. “A cook!”

I can’t contain my amusement. She can see how we live. She can’t be serious …

As if she hadn’t spoken, Arthur walks away. “And whilst you’re here, enjoying the hospitality of my village, I must ask you to respect the same conditions as the others.” 

“Conditions?” Benedicta’s feathers – or perhaps her scales – fluff up in outrage. “What conditions?”

“Everyone here must fend for themselves. I’ll show you your hut.” Arthur stalks out.

Benedicta casts a glance at us, perhaps wishing she’d done more to get us on her side, before meeting Arthur. Then she follows in his wake.

Again, I look askance at Llud. 

His face is grim. “Arthur’s father died fighting the Romans. You can’t expect him to have any sympathy – even for a woman.”

I shake my head. “Then the next two months will be very hard on her.”

Llud’s mouth twists. “She’ll survive. The Romans always do.”

~~

Having settled the princess in our finest hovel, I return to our quarters, where I set to work, cleaning my sword. And if I go about it with more than my usual diligence, it’s nothing to do with this unwelcome addition to our village: nothing at all.

I fool no one, least of all myself. This she-wolf brings out the worst in me, and cleaning my weapon makes use of my nervous energy for some useful purpose.

I’m starting to calm down, when Kai throws his sword and sword belt on the bed beside me. “You. Get that cleaned by the morning.”

Though it’s said in jest, it sends a shiver down my spine, hearing him speak to me like that … commanding me. My head rebels; my cock jumps in my breeches. I don’t think he sees …

“And you – peasant fellow.”

Llud goes on calmly cleaning his boots.

“Make yourself useful. Bring me some refreshment!” Kai takes off his belt, and throws himself on his bed, in a lordly fashion.

If Llud weren’t here, I’d fall down at Kai’s feet.

“And then, perhaps some sweet wine?” Llud suggests dryly. “And afterwards, a minstrel, to lull you to sleep? A melancholy ballad?”

“Uh – see to it at once!”

I swallow, hard. “You’d make a convincing Roman. Perhaps even Princess Benedicta could learn from you.”

Kai considers the belt lying across his thighs, then flexes it, making it snap. “She’d learn better from this!” 

The fire in my loins parches my throat.

“But she’s lovely.” Kai very obviously contemplates undressing Benedicta, and using that belt on her royal behind. 

I had thought I was used to his womanising – but this is too much. I must divert him from this course; I couldn’t bear it if he were to fall under Roman thrall.

“Do not be deceived by that angel’s face. Half a chance, and she’d trample us underfoot.”

Kai laughs melodiously, but I’m not joking.

“Kai, you should have heard the way she ranted and complained! As tedious as a minstrel, singing out of tune. ‘You expect me to live here?’ she said. ‘You Celts are no better than savages.’”

Kai licks his lips. “She’s seen nothing yet!”

A flash of jealous arousal burns through me. “I wouldn’t sully myself.”

“I’ve sullied myself with worse …”

“Listen to this – then she asked me, ‘What time will food be served?’”

“What did you tell her?”

I bite my lip. “I threw a dead rabbit at her.” 

“Arthur …”

Kai’s mild reproach shames me … a little. “You almost sound sorry for her.”

“I feel sorry for anyone who earns your wrath.”

“Alright you two – pipe down.” Llud sets his clean boots down beside his bed. “I want to get some sleep. And if there’s going to be shenanigans, be so kind as to take yourselves off to … wherever it is you go.”

He rolls himself in his blankets, and is soon snoring loudly.

“Shenanigans?” Kai cocks an eyebrow at me.

Oh, yes, please … “Where?”

“The usual place?” He gets up and heads towards the door.

I follow, like his hound.

~~


	2. Chapter 2

Once we reach the warm dark of the stables, Kai stands with his hands on his hips, silhouetted in the torchlight, blocking the doorway. “So …” he rumbles: “… you think I’d make a good Roman, do you?”

Perhaps, after all, he did notice how his play-acting tightened my breeches. “Indeed. I’ve never seen you so –”

“Domineering?” Kai saunters towards me. “Masterful?” 

My mouth feels dry. “I’d pity any slave of yours. I … I’m sure you’d show him no mercy.”

“That depends …”

“On what?”

“Well, if I should happen to see a handsome, blue-eyed Celt, on the auction blocks of Rome –”

“Yes?” I sway slightly.

“I’d go right up to him …” Kai takes a slouching step right up to me, tilts my head back, and rubs his thumb across my lower lip. “I’d check he had good teeth.” As if he’d every right to, he pulls my mouth open, and explores inside with one questing finger.

I make a sound like an outraged dormouse.

“Then, if all was in order, I’d look into his eyes.” He gazes steadily into mine. “And if he looked back, unafraid, I’d pay any price for him – all the gold and silver in my coffers.”

He owns me completely.

“I’d take my new slave home … feed him on peaches and pomegranates and …” Kai frowns. “And persimmons.”

Neither of us has ever seen a pomegranate, or a persimmon. Innocently, I ask: “What do persimmons taste like?”

Kai fixes me with a glare that makes my knees feel weak. “Does my new slave dare to question me?”

I bite my lip. “My apologies.”

He nods. “You’re forgiven.” He paces past me, brushing against my shoulder, then stops behind me, warming my neck with his breath. “Shall I tell you what would happen next?”

“If it pleases you …”

He steps closer, so I can feel his length stiffening against my behind; he gives his hands licence to roam about my torso. “I’d watch, while my lesser slaves bathed and oiled his body, and dressed him in the finest silks.”

My throat is so tight, I can hardly breathe, much less utter a word.

He turns me round to face him. “Then I’d send the rest away. I’d push this noble Celt down to his knees ...”

I let him. What else can I do?

“And do you know what I’d say to him?”

My heart pounds like a galloping horse. I shake my head. 

He puts his hand under my chin, making me look into his eyes. “Come now … must I say it? Surely you can guess?”

I can, but I’m struck dumb.

“Then I must tell you what I’d tell him. ‘Suck my cock.’”

It makes me feel dizzy. Never before has Kai dared demand anything; not like this. It’s always me who has the final word; who says what may be done, and what must not.

Doubt flickers across his face. “Of course, if he were afraid –”

“I’m not afraid.”

“– or if he didn’t want to –” 

“I want to.” I feel hot with desire, and shame.

He strokes my cheek. “Good boy.”

I think I’m melting from the inside out. My fingers clumsy, I peel down his breeches, letting his cock spring free. I lean forward, eager to take him in my mouth, but he holds himself away from me.

“Please …” I take a deep breath: “Master.”

A hiss of breath escapes him. He closes his eyes, gripping himself.

I replace his hand upon his cock with mine.

“That’s good,” he says, through clenched teeth. “My slave is …”

I let my mouth close around him, and he can speak no more, only run his fingers through my hair, and moan softly, as he leans back against the doorframe, giving himself up to me. 

I’ve never felt like this … I just want to serve him. My own cock, still untouched, is like a rod of hot iron, lending desperation to my own mouthing of his prick, until he jerks, and comes in hot spurts, gasping, and gripping my shoulders, as an eagle grips its prey.

Then he sinks to the floor, and locks his lips with mine. His tongue ravishes my mouth. He pushes me down, carefully strips off my breeches, then pauses, watching my prick pay him homage, before moving in to suck me in return.

But some spirit of perversity has me by the throat. “Please – do what you will with me, but let your humble servant look upon you.” 

“Humble servant, eh?”

He pulls himself up to lie next to me, his hand upon me. Then he starts to work my length between supple fingers, cradling my sac, controlling me; keeping me on the knife edge, stiff as an oaken spear. He invades my mouth, this time with two long fingers. 

Knowing what’s coming next, I suck them eagerly, making them wet. 

He hums deep in his throat.

I spread myself, and he takes full advantage, working his fingers deep inside, to brush against that hidden place. I moan like a wild beast, pressing desperate, pleading kisses on his throat, his chest, anywhere I can; he doesn’t let me come. 

My hair is soaked with sweat; I can hear harsh sounds coming from my throat. I dare to reach down, and touch his prick; he’s hard again. Surely now …

A whisper in my ear: “Shall I take possession of my slave?” 

I bow my head. “Yes … please.”

At last he gives himself to me, bending my body to his use and will, filling me up and taking me over; making me come until I feel there’s nothing left inside. I have to close my eyes – can’t let him see … 

Oh, Kai … what have we done? 

~~

Afterwards, we lie side by side in the hay. As Kai idly lifts a few damp strands of hair from my forehead, he speaks earnestly: “It is I who am your slave, Arthur, and always will be.”

Is it true? Then why do I feel so much less than I was? I’m become someone I barely know; weak and broken; full of need and doubt – and now is not the time. Not with Rome –

“You know … you don’t have to worry, Arthur.”

“I’m not worried! … about what?”

“The Romans. They will not return.”

How did he know?

“Benedicta is no threat to us.”

I don’t want to talk about her. Not after we’ve just … “What are you saying?”

“Nothing. Just that she is a woman, alone, and afraid.”

“She doesn’t seem afraid, to me.” I don’t like the way Kai defends her.

“She hides it well. But still, I’m sure it’s true.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” I grab a handful of hay, and start cleaning myself up as best I can. 

“Here …” Kai pulls off his shirt and passes it to me. “This needs washing anyway.”

I mutter thanks.

Kai yawns, and gets to his feet, pulling his cloak around his bare shoulders. “Time we went to our beds.”

Is that for him to say, as well? My nerves jangle. I feel a sudden need to get away … from here … from Kai.

“I think I should just check on that princess first.”

Kai raises an eyebrow. “A bit late, isn’t it? I thought you –”

“I’ll just look in. If she’s asleep, I won’t wake her.”

Kai lifts one shoulder in a puzzled shrug. “See you later then.” 

~~

Hoping to clear my head, I take a walk in the night air, around the palisade.

What just happened …? 

I don’t want to think about it, but I must. I can’t blame Kai – he did nothing I did not allow. But tonight, I let down my defences as I never have before. How can Kai possibly respect me now? What must he think of me? I abandoned my dignity. Can I ever claim it back?

Without even knowing how, I find myself at Benedicta’s hut. Perhaps, for Kai’s sake, I should give her a second chance. And I did say I’d check on her … I have to keep my word.

When I look in under the curtain, I find her sitting on the bed, poking at the dead rabbit, with a dagger.

I try to break the ice. “So we’ve decided not to starve, after all.”

“Hunger is a contemptible weapon.”

My anger flares anew. “Didn’t the Romans teach you how to do anything?”

I take the rabbit from her. “First, you cut off the feet. Then you slit it down the belly.”

Benedicta looks nauseated. But I’ve seen the Romans do worse – and not to rabbits. “My apologies. It offends our noble Roman stomach, does it?”

Benedicta snatches the rabbit, and slits it down the belly, then sets to work.

“Good. You see? You never know what you can do, until you try.”

I leave her to struggle. It makes me feel no better.

~~

What just happened? A revelation ... 

I loved Arthur before … but always he held something back. Tonight, he gave himself to me completely. Now he’s gone, even though it’s just for a brief time, I feel bereft.

And Arthur is away longer than I expected. When he finally pushes through the door, I get to my feet to go to him … ready to take him in my arms, and tell him that the village girls will have to do without me from now on, for I am his alone.

But, like a chill wind, he brushes past me.

“Now, what has Benedicta said, to aggravate you so?”

“Nothing!” He quickly strips, slinging his clothes down willy-nilly, instead of laying them out ready for the morning, then he throws himself on his bed.

“Arthur …”

“Leave me be!”

My heart contracts. Perhaps it’s not Benedicta who’s at fault … What if I took our game too far? 

In the night, I hear Arthur sighing, and turning over.

I try not to hear. There’s no talking to him when he’s like this, and anyway, what could I say? 

So I don’t disturb him.

I tell myself it will all look better in the light of day.

~~


	3. Chapter 3

But Arthur gets up early, and rides out alone. I hear his horse depart before I fall back into a blighted sleep, where I’m in the cold waters of the lake. I think I’m struggling with Morcant, but when I emerge – the one left alive – it’s Benedicta’s long flowing locks I see spreading out surface, until the water claims its prize.

Feeling sick with guilt, I manage to reach the landing stage, and grip the edge, but Arthur sets his foot upon my head. What’s the point in trying to go on? I let myself sink into the dark waters, only to wake – gasping, dragging air into my lungs as if I were truly drowning.

I look around our familiar sleeping chamber; everything seems as it was. I should feel comforted, but a black cloud still hangs over me. I think, how cruel is fate, if the moment I was ready to give Arthur my whole heart, were to be the moment I lost his?

When I drag myself out of bed, and stumble, blinking, through the longhouse door, into the light, I see smoke billowing from Benedicta’s hut, while Arthur strides away towards the forge. Benedicta stands there sniffling. Her eyes stream, and not just from the smoke.

Though I knew it was a dream, I feel a bubble of relief expand inside my chest; Benedicta still lives. But like me, she is suffering the sting of Arthur’s ire.

I don’t like to see a woman cry. I feel so fragile, her distress makes my own eyes prickle. Then Benedicta turns a tear-streaked face towards me, and rubs her hand across her face, smearing it with soot.

“What’s wrong?” I ask thickly.

“Why does Arthur hate me so?”

Who but Arthur could know Arthur’s mind? “He doesn’t hate you. But you are a Roman, and your presence here reminds him, our people once were subjugated and enslaved by Rome.”

And last night, I did nothing that might help him to forget. 

“That was not my doing, and I didn’t ask to be stranded here!” She wrings her hands. “No one will talk to me. I’m cold … and I’m so hungry.”

We usually treat a lost traveller – especially a woman – with more kindness; feed and clothe them at the very least. But now Arthur has a Roman at his mercy, petty revenge and spite have smothered his conscience. And Benedicta’s demands have made things worse.

“Perhaps you should just try and forget you are a Roman princess … I’m sure Arthur will come round, if you make an effort to fit in.”

“But Kai, no one ever showed me how to light a fire, or cook –” she makes a helpless gesture: “– or ... anything.”

“Have you asked anyone to assist you?”

“No, but –”

I tilt my head. “Then, ask.”

She drops her gaze. I see her, willing herself to be humble. Then she looks at me from beneath fluttering lashes. “Will you please help me, Kai?”

I can’t help laughing. “Of course I will.”

She smiles, her blue eyes lighting up with gratitude. It makes this sad day a little brighter, so I take her by the arm. “Here – come with me. Let’s put out this smoke signal, and start afresh.”

~~

Arthur swings into the longhouse, where I’m sitting at the table, putting new bindings on my axe.

He smiles grimly. “I see our noble princess finally managed to light a fire.”

“I assisted her.”

Arthur’s face reddens. “You did what?”

“She asked me … and I was just trying to stop her from pestering you, or burning down the village.” I put down my axe. “Arthur, she is our guest.”

“Well, I didn’t invite her. She’s a Roman, and Romans don’t come to visit. They invade. No good will come of helping one of them.”

I shake my head. “Benedicta can have as little effect, on her fate, or on ours, as a leaf floating on a flood can affect the river’s course.”

“Is that what you think?” Arthur flashes me a look that calls me an arrant fool. 

“Well, we can’t let her starve.”

“Don’t presume to tell me my obligations as a host.”

I’ve gone too far. Wishing I’d resisted Benedicta’s tears, I bite my lip, and go back to my work. “That was not my intent. I didn’t mean to make you angry. I just –” 

Arthur’s face softens. “Well, anyway – I’ve done my duty.” He sits down beside me, and nudges me with an elbow. “She wanted a bath – I gave her one.”

“You –?”

“She had the gall to say that we all stank, so I tipped a pail of water over her.” Arthur grins like a fool. “You should have seen her face!” 

I laugh along with him, but I don’t see the joke. And I can’t help wondering whether – as is sometimes the way with Arthur – his harsh treatment of this girl hides something else; something I don’t want to see. 

Perhaps I’m being too sensitive.

~~

I wish Kai and Llud had never found Benedicta. If it had been me, I might have left her to her fate. Nothing’s seemed right since she arrived. She sets my teeth on edge. 

But for the next few days, I don’t get much chance to vent my spleen. Whenever Benedicta sees me coming, she hurries past, or ducks inside her hut, pretending she hasn’t seen me.

I can hardly blame her, I suppose. I feel a pinch of guilt, quickly followed by one of irritation.

Kai helped her; took her side against me. He probably thinks she’ll be grateful – as if a Roman knew the meaning of the word; then she’ll let him do whatever he wants with her. Spank her bottom, or …

No! The thought of Kai, even touching Benedicta, tightens my jaw, and makes my heart ache.

I want to tell not to pursue her … but there have been no promises between us. My tentative romance with Rowena is something Kai regards with amused interest, not jealousy, and I’ve always feared that laying down the law – forbidding Kai to make free with any girl he chose – would drive him away.

If I were to prohibit him from chasing Benedicta, he’d see how weak I have become. Anyway, he’d surely defy me; then what would I do?

So I say nothing, hoping he goes after easier prey.

~~

Nothing’s seemed right since we brought Benedicta home with us. The village is divided; some are curious, and want to help her, while others would throw her into a pit of snakes.

As for myself: since I showed her how to light her cooking fire, I am the first person she seeks out, to ask for help, but – rather than risk incurring Arthur’s wrath – I try to avoid her. Arthur’s still out of sorts, so I avoid him, too.

But a few days later, he and I happen to meet, as I’m about to leave the practice ground, and straightway Arthur draws his sword. “Come on then!”

There’s a glint in Arthur’s eye that gives me pause, and when I see Benedicta approach, and stand leaning against the rail, I’m even less keen to fight him.

“I was just leaving. I’m tired – I’ve been practising with Gavyn all morning.”

Arthur looks from me to Benedicta, and back again. “What?” He makes his sword swing in a flickering circle round his hand. “Are you afraid to let Benedicta see you lose?”

She means less to me than the mud on Arthur’s boots. Surely he knows it’s not her ridicule I fear? But perhaps Arthur has something he needs to prove to Benedicta – or to me.

I draw my axe. “Alright. Let’s show her how it’s done, shall we?”

While my words still echo, Arthur’s upon me. I only just have time to raise my axe and fend him off. Our weapons clash. I leap back, and set myself for his next attack.

His sword flashes; I fall back, defend, fall back again. By his ferocity, you’d think his life in danger, as, I fear, is mine.

My foot sinks in the mud, slowing me down; the flat of Arthur’s blade catches me a stinging blow to the elbow. I yelp, and drop my axe, and grip my arm, stumbling to my right, as Arthur’s sword whistles past my ear.

“Arthur!” I cry out.

Arthur stops still as stone, lets his sword fall to his side, and backs away. “I’m … I didn’t mean …” He shakes his head, shoots a glare at Benedicta, then turns and walks away.

~~

I can’t believe I nearly took Kai’s ear off … again. And for what? Days have gone past since I last saw him speak two words to Benedicta, never mind trying to get between her legs.

And Benedicta’s behaviour has been … well, not irreproachable, but far more civil than it was before. Maybe Kai’s right – I’ve been too hard on her. I haven’t given her a chance. 

One day, I come upon her, sitting patiently at Olwen’s side, learning how to sew a pair of breeches. Her proud head is bent in concentration on her work.

I try to imagine how I’d have behaved, in her place; perhaps no better than she did.

Over the next few days, Benedicta flits about the village, learning what she can from anyone who’ll teach her: an exotic butterfly, come to brighten our winter.

Perhaps Kai can’t be blamed for lusting after her. She is beautiful, if I would just allow myself to see, and different from Rowena in every way.

Where Rowena is wiry – even boyish – Benedicta is blessed with voluptuous curves. Her luxuriant mane of golden tresses is more pleasing than Rowena’s short sleek pelt. Her eyes are blue sapphires; I can’t even remember the colour of Rowena’s.

When I first met the princess of the Jutes, I wondered whether any man might satisfy her. Now, I know … I can; but unlike Kai, I’ve never wanted, or had, another woman.

I was sure I never would. 

~~

Fear gnaws at me, but I say nothing to Arthur. I ponder all those times he would have sworn himself to me, and – wanting to be free to plough whatever field I may – I told him that no oaths were needed between such as we.

I’m starting to regret my rash confidence.

These last few days, Arthur can’t keep his eyes off Benedicta. His bearing changes when she’s near. He damn near took my head off to impress her, though he later said his sword slipped in his hand.

And what about Rowena? 

Perhaps I should send word … say that Arthur misses her … casually ask when she will come to visit – and let the fur fly where it may.

But Arthur would never forgive such a betrayal … and who’s to say either of his old familiar loves could trump this new wild fancy? 

All I can do is bite my tongue; let Arthur sow his own wild oats, and hope he gets Benedicta into bed, before she steals his heart.

~~


	4. Chapter 4

Kai flops down in my chair, and pours himself a drink. “Your friend Benedicta’s cut her hand.”

I try to sound disappointed – even disinterested – as I carry on binding a new spear-head to my shaft. “Only her hand?”  
  
“Just a scratch. But I looked at it for her.”

My hackles start to rise. I clench my jaw. I thought he’d given up on Benedicta. Now, to my surprise, I’m jealous – not just of Kai, but of the princess, too. 

Kai goes on, “She’s learned from the other women that the best cure for wounds is Cyrus leaves. Now she wants to travel into the forest, looking for them.”

“You’re not feeling sorry for her?” Trying to keep my own equilibrium, I test the balance of my spear. 

Kai laughs. “Not for her – no.” A horse whinnies. “I’m more concerned about the horse.”

Perhaps he really has lost interest in her. I take a deep breath. “Kai … do you think I’d stand a chance?”

Slowly, Kai turns his head towards me. “What do you mean?”

I pretend to concentrate on my work. “With Benedicta.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know.” I put down my spear and pace the room. “After the way I treated her …”

“If the leader of the Celts is not good enough for Benedicta, then who is? You want her?” Kai shrugs. “Try your luck – I won’t interfere.”

I bite my lip. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Kai is unperturbed – but I’m a little disappointed. Perhaps he’s lost interest in me, as well as Benedicta. He’s been avoiding me since … since that night.

I give him another chance to stop me in my tracks. “What about Rowena?” 

He looks into his mug, and swirls the contents round. “That’s for your conscience to decide – not mine.”

~~

Though I long to slam my fist down on the table, yelling, “No!” I feign disinterest. If I stand in Arthur’s way, he will become more set upon this course. In any case, I have no right.

I tell myself, most likely nothing will come of it. Arthur has never been very good with women, after all. 

~~

‘Try your luck’? If that’s all he has to say about it – then so I shall.

I pull my tunic straight, and without another word I leave Kai to his mead.

Once outside, I see Benedicta hanging off Kai’s horse, huffing and puffing in frustration. Her curvaceous rear offers a tempting target for me to swat. I resist.

But what she can’t expect me to ignore is the chance to land a Roman – any Roman – in the mud, so I take her by the legs, and tip her over the patient horse’s back. 

She glares up at me from the muddy straw-strewn ground. “You did that deliberately!” 

It was rather mean, but if I apologise, she’ll have the upper hand before we start. I tell her brusquely: “There’s no way of keeping your dignity, when learning how to ride.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” She gets to her feet, and lets me help her mount.

“Don’t hold onto the reins – there’s no support there.” I mount my own horse. “What you need to learn is balance.”

We set off.

“Stay off its neck. Horses take your weight best where you sit. So sit straight.”

We’re trotting along quite sedately when – for no apparent reason – Benedicta tumbles to the ground. Yet Kai said she managed to sit side-saddle without falling off. I’m almost sure she did it by design.

And so I laugh. Refusing to play her game, I make no effort to assist her.

She looks vexed. “You can judge a man by what he finds humorous.”

Nevertheless, she persists, and so do I, and by sunset I’m confident I’ll make a fine horsewoman of her.

~~

Arthur is still out with Benedicta. I pace the longhouse, till Llud begs me to stop, before I wear a track in the floor. I look for something else to do, to occupy my mind. Surely, in the armoury, I’ll find weapons that need maintenance?

But it’s as if I’ve two left hands, and two left feet as well. Sharp metal objects crash around me.

Dafydd peers inside. “Why didn’t you tell me the war was starting?” 

I laugh ruefully; perhaps, in my nervous mood, playing with weapons isn’t the best idea.

So I leave the armoury, mount my horse, and ride out as far as the lookout point, where I stand watching the waves crashing on the shore, and wishing that calmer seas had sent Benedicta safely back to Rome … else rougher ones had drowned her.

~~

It’s not till Esla’s setting out our evening meal that Arthur finally returns, and flops down in his chair.

I look up. “How did it go with Benedicta?”

He heaves a pensive sigh. “I don’t know. It’s very … odd.”

I don’t like the sound of that at all. “How so?”

“I’m not even sure she likes me.”

But he wants her to … “Why would she not?”

“Apart from the fact that she considers us all barbarians?”

That’s when – may the gods forgive me – I give Arthur some advice that’s sure to get his face slapped. “If that’s what she expects, then be a barbarian. Perhaps it’s what she wants.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course!”

Arthur won’t take Benedicta against her will, but he might push, and that should be enough to put an end to this dalliance. “All these high-born women long to have their defences breached, with a little rough play.”

Arthur nods thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right. I might try it. Thank you, Kai.”

I feel unclean. I slide a little closer to Arthur along the bench, and speak quietly, so Esla won’t hear us, as she ladles out the stew. “After we’ve eaten … shall we go to the stables?”

Arthur looks at his plate, and pokes a piece of meat, as if it’s the most unappetising thing he’s ever seen. 

I wait, wishing I hadn’t asked. He’s going to refuse me.

“Alright – why not?”

My heart starts to race; my cock is at attention straight away.

Our meal takes an age; Arthur concentrates on his food – hardly even looking at me. 

When Llud comes in, he and Arthur talk about … I don’t know what. I can’t think of anything but the fire in my loins, and when at last we leave the table, the short distance to the stables feels like a silent mile.

Arthur seems distracted.

I don’t know what to say to him, and if I were to speak, I know my voice, hoarse with desire, would make a fool of me. It’s been days since he touched me with affection, or gave me any sign that we are not at the beginning of a slow and painful end.

We’re here. 

There’s no one’s around.

I turn to him, and press my lips to his, letting him feel my prick, stiff against his hip. 

He kisses back, more roughly than is his way, shoves me up against the wall, yanks my shirt over my head, and throws it on the ground.

Perhaps he does still want me …

Arthur takes a step back, and inspects my naked chest with hungry eyes. He pinches a nipple, leaning in to maul the other with his teeth, while handling me roughly through my breeches. 

I gasp, and press into his hand.

But while I yearn for him with every fibre of my being, something still feels wrong; his ardour, forced. If only he could see how raw I feel … and knowing, cared.

I take him by the wrists. “Arthur …”

 _“What?”_ His eyes blaze.

He tries to pull free, so I let him go. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Of course not.” He tugs me towards a pile of hay. “Come on. What are you waiting for? Isn’t this what you want?”

But when I lie down beside him, every kiss stings; every touch feels like … punishment. Despite that – or perhaps because of it – my cock is flint for him, but though I serve him as best I can, he remains half-hard, and half-hearted.

At last, I raise my head, letting him slip from my mouth. “Your mind is elsewhere.”

“Nonsense!” he snaps. 

“You’re thinking of … someone else.”

He purses his lips. “Who else would I be thinking of?”

I close my eyes, and say softly, “I don’t know.”

Arthur sighs. “I’m sorry Kai – it’s just … been a long day. Come on … let me at least –”

“If you’re not in the mood –”

“But you are. Come here.” 

So I rest my head on his shoulder, and let Arthur bring me off with just his hand, while I try not to weep.

He did not deny his thoughts were not of me. He has not been the same since the day we brought Benedicta home with us.

If I had known … I would not have played the Roman.

~~


	5. Chapter 5

Benedicta is a willing pupil; by the third day, she is cantering with no problem. I stop to watch her, a slight smile of pride upon my face, then race to catch her up.

As we pass beneath a large oak tree, and Benedicta raises her arm to protect her face, her sleeve snags on a twig. We come to a halt.

“Your trees are hostile.”

These days, even when she makes a complaint, her voice is softer than it was. She starts riding back towards the tree, to retrieve the scrap of blue, stolen from her dress.

“No!”

She turns back.

“We have a saying. Wherever we leave a piece of ourselves, we will return.”

Suddenly, I find myself caring very much that she should never leave. How has this come about? Somehow, this defiant stranger, who came, not asking, but demanding, help and protection, has got under my skin. Still, I haven’t yet tried to touch her, except to give instruction.

I dismount, go over to her, and stroke her horse’s rump. “One day, you’ll come back to this place.”

“Superstitious Celtic nonsense.”

But she dismounts, sliding down into the circle of my arms. She feels just right there, and it seems like an invitation, so I kiss her. 

She pushes me away, and plants a stinging slap on my left cheek. “You ignorant savage! Because I’ve adapted to your way of life, you think I’m one of your own kind. Well know this. The only reason I did it was to prove that a daughter of Rome can master your miserable existence. I am still a princess of the blood.”

But … she was flirting with me, I’m sure of it. 

She pokes me in the chest with a finger. “And you are still a barbarian. And never forget it.”

She turns to mount her horse, but now my blood is up. Recalling Kai’s advice, I pull her back.

“My humblest apologies. I forget myself. I am a barbarian. And to prove it –” I hold her by the back of her neck, my fingers catching in her long tresses: “– let me show you how we barbarians really treat our women.”

I give her no choice; I kiss her.

“You Celtic peasant!”

And – what miracle is this? – she kisses back.

Her kisses are sweet and petulant, luring me in, yet at the same time, holding me at bay. She lets me slip my tongue between her lips, then pulls back, nipping sharply at the tip, making my cock swell in my breeches.

Another brief, brutal kiss, and she pulls free, flushed and panting. “Perhaps we Romans have something to learn from you savages, after all.” Then she mounts her horse.

~~

Arthur has spent all day with her – again. This time, when they return from riding, Benedicta’s dress is torn; they both look dishevelled, and Arthur’s wearing a big fat grin upon his handsome face.

Benedicta – the she-devil – sees me staring at her, brushes back her hair, and ducks inside her hut.

Arthur sees Olwen passing, and summons her. “Go and help Benedicta mend her dress.” Poor Olwen hastens to do Arthur’s bidding.

What? Are we all to be enslaved by Rome? A sudden rage floods through me. I want to put my hands around Benedicta’s pale throat, and choke the life out of her. 

Instead, I throw an arm round Arthur’s shoulder. “You dog!”

“It’s all thanks to you! What you said worked. I played the barbarian – she slapped my face, and then … oh, Kai! How we kissed!”

“That’s good.” I turn away, clenching my teeth. I can’t believe my addle-brained advice has led to this. I compose myself, try to summon up a smirk, and turn back to him. “And I’ll bet that’s not all you did.”

“Of course it is. I didn’t want to seem too forward. She is a princess, after all.”

“You mean you haven’t tapped that yet? Prised apart those marble thighs, and entered the gates of Rome?” I nudge him in the ribs, with too much force. “Rome shafted the Celts – if the leader of the Celts shafts Rome, it’s only fair.”

“Why must you be so crude?” Arthur’s face reddens. “Anyway, it isn’t like that.”

Then it is as I feared. She’s taking Arthur from me, piece by precious piece.

“What? You’re just friends?” I laugh: an edge of hysteria in my voice. “Perhaps I should take a crack at her after all.” 

“You leave her alone!” Arthur shoves me with both hands, pushing me to the ground.

He stares at me, lying at his feet. He looks almost as shocked as I feel. 

I get up slowly, raise both hands in surrender, and walk away.

~~

A soft rain starts to fall. I hear it on the roof. Arthur and Llud are sleeping, but I can’t … I can’t. My mind in turmoil, and my blankets soaked with sweat, I give up trying. Though it’s the dead of winter, and the dead of night, I take my sword and go out to the grove where the practice men stand waiting, silent, and somehow reproachful.

I raise my weapon and bring it down on the first man. The blow is weak, and barely dents the helmet. I strike again – this time I knock the helmet off, then run my sword through the straw man’s body: just as Arthur has wounded me to the heart.

The second man, I belabour with random blows to left and right, and it’s a good thing my opponent does not strike back, for my tactics would not defeat the greenest boy.

The third man – I show him no mercy, bringing a savage blow down on his head, splitting the helmet. It’s what I deserve, for my rashness and stupidity. I can’t believe I’ve let Arthur slip between my fingers. Sobs rend my chest; I drop to my knees, and the rain falls, soaking me to the skin.

Then there is a hand upon my shoulder. My heart lifts; I look up.

Llud. Only Llud.

I close my eyes.

“Come on in. You’ll catch your death.”

If I have lost Arthur, then I am already dead.

~~

Not very long ago, it seemed carved in stone, ordained by fate, or written in the stars that Rowena and I should, and must, be wed. Everyone – Yorath, Rowena, the Jutes, my own people, Llud, and even Kai – all of them expect Rowena and I to one day tie the knot. 

Their expectations weigh me down; trap and smother me. 

What about my desires? Must I always do what is expected? Would it be so wrong to say, ‘to hell with the alliance’; to take a real woman – Benedicta.

But what of Kai?

For years, I’ve had to watch his wenching: wondering, each time he comes home late – or not at all – whether the next one he beds will be the one he weds.

I could have been his forever … now it is Kai’s turn to wear sad faces and reproachful looks.

They won’t stop me from asking Benedicta to be my wife.

~~

I feel a hollow ache inside as Llud and I sit drinking. Days have gone past since my last miserable coupling with Arthur, and he has spent every one of those days with Benedicta. 

The everyday duties of running the village fall, by default, to me. I’ve even given up asking him to come out hunting. He has no care at all for what I do, and if I’m so brave, or foolish, as to ask what he did today, all he can speak about is Benedicta: her wit, her charm, her beauty; how well she kept her seat.

I remember, when I first came here, the little dark-haired Celt – Llud’s other son – was jealous of Llud’s care for me. But when Arthur was tasked with teaching me to ride, we soon became fast friends.

I should have left Benedicta to ride alone. Instead, I handed her the perfect opportunity to capture Arthur’s heart.

I wonder how Llud feels about this cursèd Roman witch; perhaps he’ll give me some advice.

“Why should a man charge about the countryside on horseback, when he can relax before a good fire, and drink mead?” I pass Llud the cup.

Llud gives nothing away. “We …ll, you know Arthur. It’s in his blood to help others. His only thought’s to teach Benedicta to ride.”

I sigh. “I remember a time when his only thought was to see her on a boat back to Rome.”

Llud shakes his head. “You must have known this might happen, Kai. A man like Arthur – leader of his people. I’m surprised there aren’t women flocking around him like bees around a hive. It’s not like you don’t –”

“That’s different! They mean nothing to me, and he knows it.”

“Does he?” Llud shrugs. “Are you sure of that?”

I frown. “Surely he must …”

“Well, perhaps this is the same,” Llud says reasonably.

“I don’t spend every day with the women I pursue – neglect my duties and my friends.”

Llud looks at me with pity in his eyes. “Kai … I know Arthur is more to you, even than a friend. But you cannot force a man’s heart. If he has given it elsewhere …”

“But she’s just using him!” I don’t know whence this knowledge came. “She doesn’t love him. Not like …” I put my head in my hands. 

“Come now, Kai. You can’t be sure of that. It takes a wiser man than you or I, to know a woman’s mind, or heart.” He rests a hand on my shoulder. “But if you’re right, I should think Arthur will find out, soon enough.”

~~

That night, when Arthur comes back to our hut, it’s late, but still, he can’t contain himself. “It’s going so well with Benedicta! We spent all evening talking.”

“Talking,” I say, with flat disbelief.

“Yes, talking. You should try it sometime. It was wonderful.”

Llud shakes his head, bemused. “You’ve been with her all day. What on earth did you find to talk about?” 

Arthur throws himself in his chair, opposite me. “Oh, everything! Our customs, religion, philosophy, my plans for the alliance …”

“Oh …” Llud smiles knowingly. “You spent all evening arguing, you mean.”

“No – that’s the beauty of it! I never thought I’d say it of a Roman, but we actually agree about so many things. Benedicta is … different.”

“Different?” I snort. “Oh, she’s different alright. At least the village girls I bed are honest.”

Arthur scoffs. “Honest whores.”

I leap to my feet. “Is that how you speak of your own people now?”

Llud slaps his hand on the table. “Alright you two – if you’re going to start a row, take it outside.”

Arthur purses his lips, gets up and leaves; I send Llud an apologetic glance, and follow. 

Once outside the door, I grip Arthur by the shoulder. “Can’t you see? This … Benedicta is using you. She wants the best that she can get, which just happens to be you.”

“Jealous, Kai?” Arthur’s eyes glint with triumph.

I should tell Arthur how I feel … confess my fear of losing him. A greater fear – that he’s already lost – chokes my confession in my throat.

I shrug. “I can get any woman I want. I just thought I’d let you have this one. She’s too prim and proper for my taste.”

“You arrogant –”

“And what about Rowena? Have you forgotten her?”

Arthur shoves my shoulder. “I knew you’d throw Rowena in my face! You said it was for _my_ conscience.”

“I thought this was just some passing fancy. If I’d known you meant to abandon her completely ... You know she’s saving herself for you.” 

Arthur sends me a barbed look. “ _Rowena_ and I have made each other no promises.”

Wounded, I turn away. “You’ll make an enemy of the Jutes.”

“You’re a fine one to preach! How many enemies have you made for us, by your actions? Ulrich, Athel, Mordant, Mark of Cornwall. Shall I go on?”

“Don’t bother.” 

He pulls me round to face him. “Kai … I must follow my heart.”

“Anyone would think you were in …” I can’t say any more.

Arthur turns away. “I don’t know. But … I have to find out.”

He’s walking away.

“Arthur …”

He stops in his tracks, but doesn’t turn around.

“You know I’ve never loved anyone but you.”

His shoulders stiffen. “Then you’ve a funny way of showing it.”

He goes back inside, leaving me standing there.

~~

He’s making a mistake … and I’ll prove it to him.

I saw her first, after all.

~~


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, when I come out of the latrine, I go past Benedicta’s hut, and find her scrubbing furiously at her dress.

It’s spotless.

It seems to me that if all Arthur’s done is talk, and kiss, then her frustration isn’t with the innocent blue cloth.

She hasn’t seen me.

I sidle up behind her; grab her round the waist. She melts against me, and I slide a hand up to her left breast, and squeeze. A little gasp escapes her. I press my face into her hair, gather it back, and kiss her neck.

“Arthur … at last! But not here …” She turns in my arms, then opens her lovely mouth.

I cover it with my hand, to stop her protest. “Shh … don’t fret. I can see Arthur’s been neglecting his duties to our honoured guest.”

Her expression flickers: outrage, followed by consent.

“Why not let Kai take care of your needs, if Arthur can’t, or won’t?”

She slaps my face. “You animal!”

“Ye…s.” I show her my teeth.

She glances around, and sees we are alone. “Come to my hut tonight, when Arthur’s gone.”

She pushes me away.

~~

That night, when Arthur comes to bed, I feign sleep. I wait until his breathing slows, then look across, and see him lying on his back, his mouth open, his eyes closed; a peaceful expression on his face.

I ache. Love and hate fight for their places in my heart. Both causes may be served by what I’m going to do – or so I tell myself.

I slip out of bed. Pulling my cloak around my bare shoulders, I pad across the room, and pour some mead, to stiffen my resolve. Then, as I put down the jug, my hand knocks an empty mug, and sends it rolling off the table, onto the floor, with a sound like thunder in the mountains.

I freeze. Half of me – the half that’s in its right mind – is glad that now, Arthur and Llud are bound to wake, forcing me to abandon this mad scheme. I’ll say I was just going out to take a piss – rather than piss on Arthur’s dreams.

But silence falls again. Llud grunts, turns over, and starts to snore. Arthur doesn’t even stir; only his eyes move under his eyelids, as he dreams, of what, I cannot know.

It seems that, after all, this is meant to be, so – with a heavy heart – I swallow down the mead, and quietly make my way to Benedicta’s hut.

She’s combing her luxuriant hair. Petulant, she flicks it back. “I thought you’d forgotten me.”

“I had to wait till Arthur was asleep.”

I still can’t believe I’m doing this to him.

She puts down her comb, and stalks towards me like a hunting cat. “You kept me waiting.”

I purse my lips. “Well, Princess, if I’d known your need was so urgent, for something Arthur can’t provide …”

She nods slowly, tapping her comb against her lower lip. “I’m sure he’ll serve me well – when, and if, the time comes. But my conquest of the leader of the Celts must not be rushed. In the meantime …” She drops the comb, rests her index finger in the centre of my forehead, and runs it down my nose. “There may be something his … cup-bearer can do for me.”

Her finger snags my lower lip, slides over my chin and tickles my Adam’s apple, then she boldly trails her nail down the middle of my naked chest and belly. Fire licks out from where she scrapes my flesh, and then – oh gods, this wanton taps my stiffening cock through my breeches, right at the tip.

I let out a hiss of breath.

“Hmmm …” she murmurs, as if assessing stock at market. “I think this will do very nicely.”

She hooks a finger through my belt, and tugs me towards the bed, where she lays herself down, her golden hair splayed around her head. She lifts her knees enough to let her loose shift slip, revealing her pale thighs.

This is the easiest catch I’ve ever made. “Straight to it, eh?”

“Why wait?” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you, too, want to discuss the entire history of civilisation?”

She dares mock Arthur, to my face? I force myself to laugh. “Not with you, lady.”

So she won’t see my anger, I sit down on the bed, and take off my boots, sending clods of mud sailing across the room.

Benedicta makes a disgusted sound. “Did you even wash before you came to me?”

I get to my feet. “I’ll leave such niceties to Arthur. I know what you really want.” 

Her eyes widen as I strip myself – letting her see what she’s about to get – and take a single step towards her.

She jerks her chin. “What are you waiting for?”

Despite her brave words, she sounds as uncertain as I feel.

“Like that, is it?” I kneel on the bed, between her feet. “Then let’s see what Rome has to offer.”

I push her shift up to her neck. Licking my lips, I cast a lewd glance over her. That’s when I start to wonder how I’ll ever keep my edge. Her thighs, too white; too soft, her breasts like bags of flour, the nipples small, and pale: two sickly flowers.

I didn’t want to go through with this; now I don’t know if I even can.

Seeing my manhood start to wilt, a look of outrage clouds Benedicta’s lovely face. She swipes at my stomach, leaving welts, and a little blood.

That stiffens me once more. “Roman bitch!” 

I take her wrists, and pin them, one-handed, above her head, letting her feel my length against her golden delta.

Benedicta parts her lips, but I won’t kiss her; I just watch the naked hunger on her face, and leer.

“Saxon pig!” She grips me with her thighs and thrusts against me.

“I always knew you high-born ladies just wanted it rough.”

“Rougher than Arthur’s dog can give me!”

“You think so?” I slide two crude fingers into her throbbing cunt. No blushing virgin, this. “You’d eat poor Arthur for breakfast.”

“And he’d thank me for it.” She jerks her hips, wanting more.

“As you will thank me.”

Her lower lip quivers. “Oh, will I?”

I pull out. She moans in want, so this time I give her three, curling my fingers to stroke the tender place. 

She clenches, gives a little squeal, and comes, and comes again, soaking my hand. 

I smile grimly, release her wrists, and sit back on my heels. “And there’s my thanks. You’re easier to please than I expected.”

She slaps me on the flank. “You beast!”

“My apologies, Madam.” I take my hand away, and tend myself, with fingers slippery from her cunt, watching her twitch, and splay herself. “I’ll go, if I’ve offended.” 

“No!” She grabs my arm.

“Then what? What would you ask of me?”

Her face reddens. “I … will you …”

I lick my lower lip. “Yes?”

“I want you to …” She drops her gaze. “Will you … make love to me, Kai?”

I almost laugh. “No, I will not make love to you. But I will fuck you, if it please your Highness.”

“Yes,” she says softly.

“What? I’m not sure I heard you.”

“Yes … please.”

And so, with hatred in my heart, I lie between her thighs, and drive into her wet heat.

She cries out.

“Sshhhh.” I put my hand over her mouth. “These walls are thin. Do you want Arthur to find us like this?”

She gasps, scoring my back and shoulders with her claws.

Angry, with her; with Arthur; with myself, I thrust into her, make her come, and come again. But though I let her milk me dry, there’s no pleasure in it. Wretched, and ashamed of what I’ve done, I want to get out – of her … of here – as quickly as I can.

But if I leave like that, she will know she has the upper hand. Instead, I assume a change in my demeanour, letting it seem that sex has softened me towards her. I roll off, and lie beside her, making myself be gentle with her, stroking her face, and kissing her fingertips.

“So … how long before you see Rome again? You must be missing it.”

She sighs. “Less than I was. Fearing for my safety, Arthur has advised me not to entrust myself to the Greek trader, but to try sending a message to Rome with someone travelling on the vessel. It could be months – even years – before I can go home …” She smiles sweetly. “If I ever can.”

My heart sinks, lower than before. Benedicta wants much more than a brief triumph over Arthur’s heart. She is making a place for herself here; a future in this land.

When I leave, I start to shake all over. I lean against a hitching rail and throw my guts up on the ground. 

~~

The next morning, as I’m pulling on my tunic, Arthur gives my ribs a playful punch. “You sly fox!”

“What?” He hasn’t been so friendly in a while; I want to see his face, but I don’t dare turn round. 

“Sneak out after I was asleep, did you?”

I swallow. “I don’t know what you mean.”

How does he know? And knowing – why isn’t he blazing mad?

“Well, I’m glad to see you’ve found someone to divert you from your moping. Those scratches on your back must have come from some lusty wench. Who was it?”

I laugh nervously. “Someone who wants to keep our liaison secret.”

“Secrets, Kai? From me?” Arthur seems to take this in his stride. “Have it your way. But don’t worry – I’ll find out!”

What was I thinking when I went to Benedicta’s hut? How can I ever tell Arthur what I’ve done?

~~

All that day, Benedicta won’t look at me, and I can’t look at her.

I keep thinking of her pasty flesh; how wet she was for me.

And, knowing what I know, when I see Arthur mooning over her, clowning and making himself look foolish for her favour, it fills me with such rage that I can’t even speak.

There’s nothing I can do.

~~


	7. Chapter 7

I’m hurt. My pride is hurt. So is my heart.

Only two days ago, Kai said he’d never loved anyone but me. It shook me to my core, and though I’m smitten by Benedicta, his revelation made me waver in my course.

But now – so soon – it seems he’s found himself a girl: one he doesn’t want to brag about. It must be serious. I know I should be glad for him, but truth be told I’m shocked.

Now I don’t know what I want, or what to do. I don’t even know where my pursuit of Benedicta’s going to lead, if it leads anywhere at all.

She might refuse me … and if Kai –

I might end up alone.

Feeling cast adrift, I wander down to the stables, to see whether Benedicta is around.

When I come in, she gives me a brief glance, then looks away. She doesn’t say a word; just goes on tightening her girth.

I’ve never really understood a woman’s moods, but she seems … different.

In case I’ve got it wrong, I pretend I’ve noticed nothing, and start saddling my own mount. “Where shall we go today?” 

She tosses her head. “How should I know? This is your land. It isn’t up to me.”

I heave a sigh. “Benedicta – what’s troubling you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Arthur.” She busies herself with her horse’s bridle. “I’ve been thinking … what will become of me, if I can’t go home?”

“Well, you will remain here, of course.” I bite my lip. “Unless you want to leave …”

“I don’t want to … but I don’t belong here.” 

She throws up her hands; her horse shies, and kicks its stall.

“See? Even the horses don’t like me.” She pouts prettily. “I’m a nobody.”

I smile. “But I thought you were Benedicta, Princess of the Blood!”

She snorts, looking down at her garb. She’s trim and shapely in a leather jerkin – one of mine – and breeches she made herself. “Hardly a princess any more.” She turns away. “And no one here respects me.”

“Respect has to be earned.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “And you’ll get there, in time.”

“But what am I, Arthur? Your guest? Your friend?” She turns towards me, her lovely face flushed. “Your concubine?”

If only that were true …

I laugh nervously. “Hardly that. We haven’t –”

She looks sharply at me. “You know what I mean. That’s how your people see me.”

“Well, perhaps they could be persuaded to see things differently.”

I put an arm around her waist, drawing her towards me; and for a moment she submits, and moulds herself to me: the subtle scent of lilacs drifting from her hair.

Then she puts a hand on my chest, resisting me. “And how would you accomplish that?” Her chin is raised, as if she’s daring me.

I must be bold, for this is when I find out whether she wants what I want; feels the way I feel. “Benedicta, I know this isn’t the life you would have chosen, but will you –”

“Yes!”

I blink. “But I haven’t –”

She presses a chaste kiss to my cheek. “Yes, Arthur … I will marry you!”

~~ 

She said ‘Yes’! 

I’m to be wed … 

I feel hot all over – afraid and joyous; so excited I can hardly breathe.

Benedicta’s to be mine.

In two or three nights’ time, we will lie down together, and …

My imagination runs riot. I don’t want to wait. But this time, when I try playing the barbarian, Benedicta puts a finger to my open mouth, and turns her head away.

“Let’s not spoil it,” she says. “Our wedding night will be the sweeter for the wait.”

~~

I sit on my bed, taking off my jacket. It’s late, and Arthur’s still not here, and though I know exactly where he is, and who he’s with, I give vent to my anger. “Where the devil is he?”

Llud looks at me as if I were the village idiot.

“If he comes clumping in again, in the middle of the night …” I throw my jacket down. “Ach!”

Llud scoffs. “Night and day become a little confused when you’re in Arthur’s state of mind.”

“He’s been acting like a lovesick monk for weeks.”

“Lovesick, yes. Monk … no.”

You’d think Llud had seen them coupling with his own eyes. Perhaps, being woken last night by Benedicta’s cry, he just went back to sleep, not realising mine was the empty bed.

“And I can’t blame him for that. Mmmm. If I were twenty years younger …”

I try to smile.

Arthur comes in, flinging his cloak on his bed.

My heart lifts. Perhaps he and Benedicta have had a falling out. “Aaaah … to bed before dawn? You sickening for something?”

Arthur crosses the room, and takes a drink from a cup. “Best start thinking about where you will build yourself a new hut.”

A chill grips me. “New hut?” 

“Benedicta and I will need this one.”

I can’t believe she’s moved so fast.

“Huh?” Llud says,

I concentrate on unlacing my boots. 

“Kai? You must send word to the abbot. I will need him here as soon as possible.”

That gets me to my feet. “Abbot?”

The word is poison in my mouth. Help Arthur shackle himself to Benedicta? I won’t do it.

Arthur is looking warily at us both. “Llud? Since Benedicta’s father cannot be present, you will have to take his place.”

Llud nods.

Not knowing what else to do, I push Arthur in the back, with a heartfelt: “You poor fool!”

Llud pushes Arthur back towards me. “Fool’s right.”

We both pitch him onto his bed.

Llud smiles. “And we were all such fools!”

I force myself to smile; it hurts my face. To think of Arthur lying with that woman …

Oh, my heart! Is this how Arthur felt, every time I spent the night with someone else? How has he borne it, all these years?

Is this what I deserve?

Now, he looks so happy; vulnerable in the flush of his new love – as he once looked when first in love with me. And I wasted that time … hurt him, by bedding another, even in that same week, because I was afraid to love, and to be loved so much.

And when I see him lying there, all I want is to cover his body with my own; tell him, ‘I’m sorry’, take him, right now, and give him everything he’s ever wanted.

If Llud weren’t here …

But Arthur doesn’t want me any more.

~~

Where are the hordes of invading Picts and Saxons, when you need them? I only wish I had such an excuse, to miss the feast celebrating this damned betrothal.

The sound of voices raised in merriment and toast is already spilling from the longhouse. The whole village is invited, and I’m late. If Arthur’s right hand man did not attend, it would look ill, so – with a heavy heart and leaden feet – I pull on my finest tunic, and go to join the festivities.

Arthur is sitting at the top table, bright-eyed, and slightly drunk, feeding his betrothed with tidbits from his plate. There’ll be no more lighting of cooking fires for precious Benedicta. 

“Kai!” Arthur hails me. “About time!”

Lenni fills my mug, then Arthur gestures at her. “More wine for my bride-to-be, the matchless Benedicta!”

I nearly choke.

In Lenni’s haste to fill Benedicta’s cup, she accidentally spills some wine on the princess’s sleeve.

Benedicta’s lips purse in annoyance. “Stupid girl! Look at my dress!”

Arthur frowns. “It was an accident, my love.”

Rage flickers across Benedicta’s face, but Arthur is busy mopping up the wine, and she has time to school her features. Then she puts her hand on his, and turns a false smile on Lenni. “Of course. My apologies.”

I want to slap her hand away, and put my fist through Arthur’s simpering face.

Llud, sitting beside me, waves a chicken leg in my face. “So, when’s the abbot due?” 

“He should be here soon.” I tear a piece of bread in half – imagining it Benedicta’s neck – and take a bite.

Llud looks sidelong at me. “Have you even sent word yet?”

I chew mulishly at my food.

 _“Kai?”_ Llud grips my wrist. “Arthur will be expecting him – the day after tomorrow, at the latest.”

“Messages can get lost along the way.” I heave a sigh. “Anyway, I thought Arthur would have come to his senses by now.”

Llud shakes his head. “To be honest, I’m going off the idea myself. Do you know, that dratted women came into the bedchamber today, and started telling me how she was going to rearrange things, as soon as ‘all our rubbish’ was out of the way?” He snorts. “Still. You’d better do it – first thing tomorrow.”

I look towards the happy couple, and nod reluctantly. “It seems I have no choice.”

Benedicta whispers something to Arthur, then she points at me. My stomach churns. What can she be telling him?

Arthur shakes his head, and puts a hand on her arm, as if to hold her back, but Benedicta gets to her feet, and bangs a spoon against a metal chalice, for attention.

Silence falls; then she says, for all the room to hear, “Look at poor old Kai. He’s all alone. Arthur – we should try to find him a wife, before it’s too late for him.”

A few of the older men glance at Arthur, then at me. Pockets of nervous laughter break out around the room. Even Arthur has a slight smile upon his face.

Looking daggers at Benedicta, I shove back my chair, and slowly rise to face her. “The Princess is most kind to be concerned about my welfare. But I can find my own wife … if I want one.”

“Well, you haven’t had much luck so far, have you?” She laughs merrily. “How many marriage feasts have _you_ almost had?”

The room erupts in mirth.

I can’t believe Arthur told her …

“First Goda took you for a fool. And then – what was that peculiar girl’s name? Eithna? Were there many more?”

Someone at the back of the room yells out, “Leesa”; another “Gwendolyn.” Soon, the names of my past conquests are flying across the room, like startled pigeons.

Arthur’s smile fades; his mouth forms a tight line. He doesn’t want to be reminded of them, any more than I.

But the whole room’s in gales of laughter. The hellcat’s got everyone on her side, by making fun of me.

I slam my mug down. “Princess, were you a man, one of us would not live to see another sunrise.”

As hoots of derision join the cacophony, Arthur bangs his fist on the table. “Kai! Sit down!” 

But I’m done being talked to like his dog. I turn on my heel, and leave.

A minute later, Arthur follows me out. He grabs my arm and pulls me round to face him. “What is wrong with you, Kai?”

Furious, I pull free, and stand at bay. “I can’t believe you told Benedicta of all my follies.”

“Your failed romances are common knowledge,” Arthur retorts. “Would you prefer she heard of them from Gobnat? I tried to stop her –”

“What else have you told your Roman whore?”

“Don’t you dare call her that,” Arthur says, through clenched teeth.

I take him by the arm, and steer him away from a couple snogging drunkenly nearby. “Does she know about us?”

“No,” Arthur whispers. “And she never will.”

The sky above is clouded – no stars shine through.

“Then …” Oh gods, I have to know … “It’s over between us?”

Arthur bites his lip. “Did it ever really begin?”

“How can you –?”

“Kai … I don’t know what will happen. Perhaps we can still –”

“Must I live in hope of scraps from that bitch’s table?” 

“As I’ve had to share you, all these years, with Gwendolyn and Leesa and their like?”

It stings me like a lash; one I made for my own scourging.

“And what about the girl who left those scratches on your back? You don’t need me.”

I can’t answer him. I turn away, dragging my sleeve across my face.

Arthur puts a hand on my arm. “Kai … I don’t understand. I thought you liked Benedicta.”

“And I thought _you_ hated her.”

“Yes … so did I.”

“And now you love her?”

“Yes,” Arthur says softly. “I think I do.”

I know I’m going to sound pathetic; I no longer care. “And me? Do you still –”

Arthur looks stricken. “Kai … don’t make me say it ... especially not now. I want Benedicta. I _must_ have her. And if marriage is what it takes –”

If only Arthur knew … she gives it up for less than that. “But Arthur … can’t you see? She’s using you.”

With total confidence, he says, “She loves me.”

“No.” I shake my head firmly.

“How can you say that? You don’t know her like I do.”

And now it comes to it, I realise that if I were to tell Arthur how well I know his bride-to-be, I’d be the one who didn’t see another sunrise.

So I walk away.

~~


	8. Chapter 8

As Kai walks away from me, I want to call him back … go after him.

I stop myself.

I never set out to hurt him, and yet – now I’ve said those things that I’ve held dammed up inside me all these years – I feel a kind of lightness in my chest.

For good or ill, I’ve made my choice; this is how it has to be. I will take Benedicta to my bed, and that part of my life – the part where Kai was all and everything to me – will be over.

This is a new start – perhaps for both of us.

I should be glad.

I heave a deep sigh, and head back to the festivities.

~~

While Arthur and Llud sleep soundly, I toss and turn, going over and over my last exchange with Arthur; trying to find some tiny spark of hope. I can’t – I just can’t accept it’s over. 

‘Don’t make me say it’: what did Arthur mean? That he no longer loves me? Or that he still does?

There’s no point tormenting myself like this. While Arthur’s still obsessed with Benedicta, what he did or didn’t mean matters little – the effect is still the same.

And I’m determined this witch won’t keep him. 

My decision made, I manage to get some sleep.

In the morning, I go out early, and find only Olwen in the guest quarters, airing out Benedicta’s bed.

“I see you’ve been pressed into our new Princess’s service.” 

She sighs, then shrugs. “Are you looking for her?”

“I am.”

“She’s gathering herbs in the clearing, over that way.” Olwen points towards the east end of the village.

“Thanks.”

She puts a hand on my arm. “I heard about last night. Don’t do anything foolish, will you, Kai?”

I’m not sure that I know how to do anything else, but I give her a brief nod, to reassure her.

Finding Benedicta where Olwen said she’d be, I waste no time with pleasantries.

“What game do you think you’re playing?”

She looks innocently at me. “What does it look like? I’m collecting some ingredients. Did you know, these flowers can be used for –”

“You know what I mean.” I snatch her basket, emptying it on the ground. “This nonsense with Arthur.”

“Nonsense?” She smiles sweetly. “Is it nonsense, to wed the man you love?”

“You don’t love him!”

Her eyes narrow. “And what is it to you, whether I do or not? You betrayed his trust by coming to my bed.”

“Only to prove –”

“It is no matter.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Arthur loves me. And if I can’t be a princess in Rome, at least among barbarians, I’ll be queen.”

I push her up against a tree. “Over my dead body! You’re going to tell Arthur that you’re so very sorry, but you are breaking off this betrothal.”

Benedicta rolls her eyes. “And why would I do that?”

“Because otherwise, I’ll tell him that you lay with me.”

“What?” Bold as brass, she thrusts a hand down my breeches, and takes me by the balls. “You’re going to confess that you forced yourself upon his virgin bride?”

“Virgin!” I’d laugh out loud, if she didn’t have me in her grasp. “You were willing – and you’re no virgin.”

She bats her eyelashes. “That’s not what I’ll tell Arthur.”

My heart lurches. Is Arthur so besotted, he’ll take her word over mine? When we were younger, there were times when only Arthur’s disapproval held me back from taking what I wanted from a woman, freely given or not: and Arthur knows it.

Benedicta smiles – her face shining with triumph. “And what would be the price for such an evil deed?” She grips a little harder, digging her nails into my tender skin.

I flinch. The penalty for despoiling another man’s bride … That punishment has not been used, or needed, in many a year. “Arthur would not …”

At last, she lets me go, and as she stoops to wipe her hand on the dewy grass, she asks, “Are you prepared to take that risk?”

I back away out of the grove, shaking my head.

Benedicta watches me depart. “And don’t sleep too soundly when he and I are wed,” she calls after me. “I may require your services again, if the fancy takes me.”

 _What?_ Am I to be Benedicta’s dirty secret, as well as Arthur’s? I’m in a dark forest, full of thorns and briars, where every move I make ensnares me deeper.

All that is left for me to do, is what I’m told, so with a heavy heart I summon our least lucid messenger, assign him our slowest, and least tractable horse, and send him for the abbot. 

~~

This is all so new. Benedicta is really making herself at home; trying so hard to learn our ways. I never thought I’d say this, but … she makes me feel like a king, showing her round his kingdom.

“For bad wounds, we use this moss. It takes its strength from the tree.”

“You Celts are such practical people. Even your plants are practical. Doesn’t anything grow for just … prettiness?”

I think of saying, ‘Like you, you mean?’ Instead I tell her, “Oh yes! It’s bare now, but in spring, the meadows are red with poppies.” I take her hand, and lead her. “The whole forest is full of flowers. Foxgloves, campion, mallow, columbine, Solomon’s seal, winding around the trees. The foxglove has a purpose too. If you boil the leaves –“

“You’re being practical again!” 

“Now you see this?” I point to a gouge on a tree trunk. “This is where a king boar broke from cover last summer.” I run up the bank. “He came crashing out of here.” I make boar-noises, run down the bank, bent over, and tumble at her feet.

She laughs.

“There’s a penalty for laughing at the misfortunes of a Celtic chieftain,” I say, with mock-severity.

“Which can only be imposed if the offender is caught.” Benedicta runs off among the trees.

I watch for a moment, giving her a start, then follow after her.

But where is she? Somehow, I’ve managed to lose her.

“Benedicta?”

The woods give no reply. With a growing sense of dread, I continue searching.

I emerge into a clearing, and there’s a sword at my throat. Five Roman soldiers stand between me and Benedicta, yet she’s smiling, and at ease.

The cold hand of suspicion clutches at my heart. 

Benedicta turns to the commander. “ _That_ is Arthur. A chieftain of the Celts.”

Not, ‘This is my betrothed’ but ‘that is Arthur’: as if I were some creature, on display. Is this a trap Benedicta has set for me? 

But she continues: “Lower your swords. He has been most hospitable towards me.”

Regaining my composure, I ask, “You know these men?”

“Part of my escort. I thought they had all perished. I was wrong. This is my centurion, Nestor.”

“We came ashore further up the coast. We’ve been searching for our princess. Now we’ve found her, we can return home.”

…

“Ah …” Benedicta says. “Let’s go back to Arthur’s village. We can discuss arrangements there.” 

~~

To see Romans sitting at our longhouse table, with Benedicta holding court, as if they owned the place …

They’ll be well-trained, but so are we, and there are but five of them. For what it’s worth, Benedicta has vouched for their behaviour; nevertheless, I stay as close to Arthur as protocol allows, keeping watch – with wary hostility – on Nestor’s every move.

And Benedicta’s.

“We have been searching through this land for days and days.”

If so, they must have had their eyes closed, not to have spotted Arthur and Benedicta, cavorting about the place.

“My father will know of your devotion.”

“’Tis more than our lives were worth, to return to Rome without you.”

“They say Rome will forgive anything … except failure.” Llud picks up his mug, and drinks.

As for Arthur … he observes our guests, his demeanour calm, but wary, as Benedicta prattles about Rome.

“It may not be what it was in the great days of the empire, but it is still truly called the City of the Gods, am I not right, Nestor?”

Nestor raises his cup in toast, letting her know he sees where her loyalties still lie.

“It has colour, and beauty. Charm.” She has the gall to look at Arthur as if this is something that he lacks.

“And dignity.” She looks at Llud in the same way.

Llud pointedly spits out some food. As for myself – I don’t know how I hold my tongue. Give me the word, Arthur, and I’ll pluck hers out.

“Do you remember the Feast of Apollo? The marvelous music! And the coloured statue of Minerva my father gave to the City? And the flowers along the Aurelian wall.” She bites her lip, and puts her hand on Arthur’s. “Arthur! You will love Rome!”

The room becomes suddenly cold.

“As you will love the night air.” Arthur gets to his feet, takes Benedicta’s cloak, and she, too, rises, and lets him put it on her shoulders.

They go outside, leaving Celts and Romans alike in pensive silence.

~~

Once outside, I turn to Benedicta. “Love Rome? But we live, here.”

“Here? But I thought …”

She doesn’t want to stay … 

I stiffen my spine. “I don’t know how it is in Rome, but here, the woman shares the life with the man.”

I can see it in her eyes … it’s over between us.

“I want to share your life. But Arthur, I am a Roman.”

And I am a Celt. This should be the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make … but in some ways it’s the easiest of all.

“Benedicta. This is my land. These are my people. I am their leader.”

I cannot – will not – leave this land.

“But you have not seen Rome! You do not know how it will be for us. Arthur … Rome is a paradise, where we will be treated like gods.”

Is that all Benedicta cares about? Comfort and status?

I thought she’d changed …

“I’ll make you a promise.” She looks at me, a challenge in her eyes. “That before we’ve sailed one league from these shores, you’ll have forgotten that this land ever existed.”

As soon as those words leave her lips, I know: none of this meant anything to her. Before she’s sailed one league, she’ll have forgotten _me_.

“If you believe that, then we’ll never have known each other.”

“Perhaps you’re right. I took you for a man.”

Her gibes mean nothing to me now. “No. Just a tame barbarian, here to amuse you until your Roman friends escort you back to civilisation.”

“Ah! Is that what concerns you? You fear that you will feel inferior.”

Cold fury takes hold. “The day I feel inferior to a Roman, I will cut my throat.”

Benedicta is impervious as her father’s statue of Minerva. “Nestor tells me that the ship has arrived. We will leave tomorrow, at daybreak.” She goes into her hut.

~~

I don’t know what to do. I’m falling down a dark well; I don’t think I’ll ever reach the bottom. I stand looking out into the blackness, over the palisade. My soul is cold – so cold. And I’m alone.

She used me. Kai was right, and it tastes bitter in my mouth.

I’ve lost everything. Soon, I must go back inside, to face the questions, the pity, and the contemptuous looks. 

A wolf howls in the distance. 

After what seems like eternity, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and turn, to see Kai standing there.

I brace myself, to hear him say he told me so – but he hasn’t come to gloat. His face is anxious. His grip tightens, as he asks me: “Will you go with her?”

“Of course not.”

He blows out a breath, then slaps me on the back. “Come on inside – you need a drink.”

~~


	9. Chapter 9

I’ve just awoken, with my head pounding like the Devil’s smithy, when I hear someone stirring. I peer out from underneath my blankets. 

It’s early: barely light, but, though Arthur silently drank himself into oblivion last night, he’s dragging himself from his bed. He looks like hell: bleary-eyed, and desperately sad.

My heart aches for him. “Where are you going, so early?”

“To see Benedicta and her escort on their way.”

Out of respect for Arthur’s feelings, I don’t say ‘good riddance to them.’

“Why bother? Just let them go.”

Arthur looks as if he’d like nothing better than to crawl back into bed, and stay there: perhaps forever.

“No.” He sighs deeply. “Benedicta and I were to be wed. I should show her due respect.”

She’d little enough for him.

“Then we must stand with you.” Llud rolls out of bed. “Can’t let the Romans think we’re sluggish in the mornings, eh?” He gives me a pointed look.

I was already reaching for my boots.

We all go out together, but Arthur goes to stand nearer the track, to wait alone, while the horses come towards us, their breath steaming on the crisp morning air.

When Benedicta reaches Arthur, she comes to a halt; she at least has the courtesy to feign regret. Then the moment passes, and we watch the cursèd Romans ride out of our gates.

I can’t see Arthur’s face; I don’t need to. His stance shows me all I need to know: sorrow and pride. At last, he pulls his shoulders back, seeming to collect himself, but as he comes towards me, the impassive mask cracks, and he closes his eyes a moment. When he opens them, his dark lashes shine with tears.

“Kai … the abbot …”

I nod. “I’ll send word, and intercept him. Do not concern yourself.”

I want to put an arm around him, but Arthur gives a slight shake of his head, and goes wearily inside. 

~~

Benedicta’s made a complete fool of me. Certain the whole village is laughing at me, I spend the day compensating in the usual way: charging about, giving orders.

Then I resolve to put an end to this. I saddle my horse, ride up to the big oak tree, and snatch the tiny piece of cloth from the branch. Superstitious nonsense! If there were such a charm, I’ve broken it. There’s no point pretending. Benedicta won’t come back – and even if she did, I don’t want to see her face again.

So I tell myself … but it’s a lie. Last night, knowing she was leaving, I imagined going to her hut, and taking her. Now, the desire that burns within me never will be slaked.

I stow the piece of cloth next to my breast.

And what of Kai? He doesn’t know what to say to me, nor I to him. Perhaps he hates me.

How many times have I chided him, for his gullibility when it comes to the fair sex? This has happened to him, more than once. How does he bear the public shame, and disappointment? I’m too ashamed to ask him.

What have I done to us? Even if I could see past this haze of lust for what I cannot have, we can’t go back to how it was before; we are both hurt too much. How could I even ask him? What if he said ‘no’?

My pride is wounded, not yet dead.

~~

Every day since Benedicta left, I’ve seen Arthur go to her hut, flick back the curtain, and slink inside, as if he hopes to find her there. A few minutes later, or an hour, he’ll emerge, wearing a look of anger, sadness, or despair.

Every time, I want to follow him, and shake some sense into him, else give him comfort, though I don’t know how. But I don’t intrude upon his grief.

On the seventh day, finding some excuse to speak to him, I wait in sight of Benedicta’s hut. When Arthur appears, I’m surprised to see Llud follow him out. Perhaps Llud found something to say to him, that I could not.

“This hut must be cleared out!” Arthur declares.

“Arthur,” Llud says. “Will you ride to the rise above the village? By the woods, caught in one of the branches of the trees, a piece of fine, hand-woven fabric.”

Arthur produces a piece of blue cloth from about his person. “I took this from the tree, the day Benedicta left.”

So ... he has kept it. I had hoped, after a week of moping, he might …

“Then the winds have carried another piece, from the boat that takes her to Rome. Go and find it. And then, for the sake of all of us, stick your head in a butt of wine, for a week. And emerge, not as a moonstruck calf, but the man who leads us, go!”

I agree with Llud’s advice about the wine, but not the rest. What is he thinking, encouraging this foolishness?

Or has the witch returned?

I have to know. As Llud slaps Arthur on the arm, and shoves him towards his horse, I run to the stables to saddle my own mare.

I see Arthur riding like a madman through the gate: clinging to a last hope … hastening to clutch a last piece of her. 

He shan’t have it!

I know a quicker way to that damned tree. The first part’s hazardous; I know Arthur’s horse can’t manage it. Mine can.

Even so, she slips, scattering rocks as she scrambles down the treacherous slope, but after that, the way is flat and true. As I race towards the oak, the wind stinging my eyes, I see Arthur crashing out from behind some trees.

We both thunder across the space between, and – by a horse’s length – I get there first, and tear the piece of cloth from the branch. Then I open my hand, and let the wind whip it away among the blowing leaves.

Arthur just stares after it, and then at me. At last, he finds words. “Why did you come here?”

“Why did _you?_ ”

He blinks. “I don’t know … I just wanted to see if it were true – that she’d left even some small part of herself here, for me to find.”

I raise my chin. It’s time to end Arthur’s delusion. “Perhaps she left it there for me – or Llud, or Tugram …”

Arthur’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Arthur … she never loved you.”

He turns sickly pale. “I know that … but how do you?”

I hang my head. “Those scratches on my back –”

“No …” Arthur shakes his head.

“– were left by Benedicta’s claws.” 

“No!”

Arthur leaps from his horse, dragging me with him to the ground, then he hits me, hard, in the face.

I don’t fight back. I deserve it. Blood trickles down my chin.

He gets to his feet, yanks me back to mine, and yells: “Don’t you say that!”

I stand waiting, my hands by my sides. I don’t say anything.

“Liar!” He hits me again, making me stagger back.

I look steadily at him.

His face contorts. I see that he believes me.

“Why?” he demands, low and deadly.

“I ... had to prove it for myself.”

“What?” Arthur flings his arms wide. “That you could get any woman you wanted? Even mine?”

“No!”

How can he think that? … How could he think anything else …

“Then _what?_ ”

“That she didn’t love you.”

Arthur’s eyes are flints. “And you do, I suppose?” 

I nod miserably. “Yes.”

His lower lip trembles. He hits me again, less hard. “How can you say that? After …”

“I don’t know, Arthur … I know I don’t deserve you.”

“No. You don’t.” He closes his eyes. “If you had only …” He heaves a deep sigh, then he shakes his head. “I wanted her so much …”

“She didn’t deserve you, either.”

Arthur’s face goes blank. “Well, that’s a great comfort to me. Thank you, Kai, for proving it, by betraying me, with her.”

I flinch.

“I’m sure you did it for my own good, and took no pleasure in it for yourself.” He turns away.

Despairing, I admit: “Arthur, I hated every minute.”

A heavy silence falls.

When Arthur speaks again, his voice is silk and steel. “Did you?” he says. “She gave you, what she denied to me … and you hated it?” His fists clench. “How _dare_ you?”

“She was –”

_“Shut up!”_

Arthur is vibrating. I’m glad his back is turned, and I can’t see his face.

“Shut your mouth – don’t you dare say another word about her.”

“Arthur … I –”

“Get out of my sight!” He flings an arm out to his right, pointing I don’t know where.

I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Not knowing if he heard me, I mount my horse, and ride off slowly to the west. Tears blind me. What am I to do?

I look back – Arthur is still standing where I left him. Then I see him crumple to his knees, and take his head in his hands.

I can’t leave him like that.

I get off my horse, and walk back to him, then get down on my knees, on the cold ground, facing him.

He doesn’t stop me taking both his hands in mine; I dare to caress his fingers. “We don’t have much luck with women, do we?”

He lifts his tear-streaked face. “You do, it seems.”

I shake my head. “They mean nothing. I don’t know why I’ve continued to pursue them. I think … I was just afraid to give myself to you, wholly. I haven’t trusted you enough. But that ends, now. I want no other – only you.”

Arthur takes in a short, sharp breath. Perhaps there is still hope.

“I beg you, Arthur, let us try again – just you and me.”

Arthur closes his eyes, and says softly, “No.”

I feel like I’m dying. “Arthur … please …”

He shakes his head sadly. “I would not do either of us the dishonour of offering you a heart divided.”

“You still want her.” 

He nods. “More than I can say.”

My heart is in my mouth. “And me? Do you –?”

“I’m sorry … Kai. I don’t know. I can’t see past her.” 

Oh, Arthur …

“Then I will wait. My heart is yours alone. I’ll wait forever, if that’s what it takes to win you back.”

“That’s …” Arthur sniffs, and wipes a hand across his face. “I don’t know what to say … but, thank you.” He turns my hands over in his, and stares at the palms, as if to see the future written there. Then he looks up. “Kai – I’m so very tired. Can we go home now, please?”

~~

Poor Arthur. I can’t blame him. I know how it is, when a woman who enthrals you won’t give you what you want, yet still contrives to break your heart. The longer the pursuit, the sweeter the conquest, but the more it hurts, should you be thwarted.

It’s an exquisite pain, that can’t be shared: to be rejected, without even being given a chance … thinking, if only you’d made love to her, just once, perhaps she would have stayed.

~~


	10. Chapter 10

Weeks pass. Still, all I can think about is her: the smell of her hair; the feel of her hand in mine; each memory of her kiss, a fragile flower. I’m haunted by the lilt of her voice, gently reproving the old oak: ‘your trees are hostile.’ I dream of taking her in my arms, kissing her, then slowly taking off her dress, and ... 

Then I remember – Kai did that, and more. My imaginings are soured. I fly into such rages, everyone avoids me, and I feel ashamed.

For his part, Kai is quiet and subdued; solicitous to my every need, and asking nothing. Good as his word, he takes no woman to his bed, or hers. Neither does he come to me in lust, but keeps himself apart. He is never naked in my presence; doesn’t even let me see him taking off his shirt, but waits till I’m asleep, or turned away.

Sometimes I know, without even looking round, that Kai is watching me, with hope, or pensive sadness.

A leak in our thatched roof reminds me of that night when I told him and Llud to build a new hut. How I must have hurt them both! Especially Kai …

I thank the gods they made no effort to obey me, for without their long-suffering companionship, I think I would run mad, or fall into a despond from which I’d never rise again.

~~

Arthur seems better than he was. The violent rages almost have abated; now he is just sad and quiet, as if bereaved, and waiting for this time to pass. I, too, am waiting; trying to be patient; hoping that one day, Arthur can forget her, and forgive me.

~~

Soon, the village has forgotten Benedicta. Life goes on. Sometimes I find that I can pass an hour, or even two, without speaking her name, over and over, in my heart.

But then one day I pass beneath the tree where that boar broke from cover, and where I fell at Benedicta’s feet, thinking her irrevocably mine. Feeling awash with sadness, I slip my hand inside my shirt, just to touch that familiar piece of cloth, threaded on a thong around my neck.

But I can’t feel it …

I reach further down. The thong’s still there. I look inside my shirt and see a single thread of blue, clinging to my chest. The cloth must have ripped free this morning, when I changed my shirt.

I thunder back to the village, run to the hut, and barrel through the door.

Kai looks up from cleaning his axe. “Arthur – what’s wrong?”

I don’t say a word, but tip the wicker basket of dirty clothes onto the bed. First, in a flush of expectation, I turn the shirt I was wearing inside out. My heart sinks; nothing there. I examine tunics, socks and breeches, then I strip my bed, going over each blanket, then I crawl about the floor, searching among the rushes. 

How could I let this happen? My one piece of her … how could I neglect to check that it was safe? Are my sensibilities so blunted?

Feeling that I’ve let go of more than just a scrap of cloth, I carry on my search.

~~

I frown. What has Arthur lost?

He searches every surface … every box or trunk, every hanging rail or cupboard, every nook and cranny; even frantically scrabbles among the rushes on the floor. After taking a breath to calm himself, he methodically searches around the walls, and under the beds.

“What is it you seek, Arthur?”

Arthur’s head jerks up: the light of suspicion in his eyes. “As if you didn’t know!” He puts a hand to his chest.

Well, I do now; he must have lost his precious piece of Benedicta’s dress. 

For a moment, I feel glad. But then I see tears welling in his eyes, and I want more than anything to banish them, and make him smile, as he has not done in many a long day.

It comes to me that just this morning, Lenni swept the floor and changed the rushes – but I don’t want to get her into trouble, or to give Arthur false hope.

I shrug. “Sorry, Arthur … I haven’t seen it.”

I heave a sigh, then get up, as if to go to the latrine, but – once outside – I run to the fire-pit near the forge, where we burn our rubbish.

The old rushes are already well alight, but still, I take a long stick, and poke among the embers, searching for a scrap of blue. Just where a flame is licking – starting to take hold – I see it! 

I try to knock it clear, but it’s caught fast, lodged among the coals. There’s nothing for it but to stick my hand into the fire, and snatch Arthur’s beloved fragment from the flames.

I lick my singed fingers, run to the trough, and plunge my hand into the cold water.

Then I take the wet, charred tatter back to Arthur. 

Finding him lying face-down on his bed, I put one hand upon his shoulder. “Arthur …”

“What?” he says dully.

With my un-singed hand, I lay my tribute before him on his pillow. 

He goes completely still. After a moment, he reaches to clutch it in his fist. Then he takes a deep breath, and softly says, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

I lay my hand on his bowed head, and dare to muss his hair. “Then it’s a good job you’ll never have to find out.”

~~

Things get better. Sometimes Kai even shares a joke with me; our eyes meet, almost like they used to do.

But not quite …

And sometimes, when he’s sitting near me, I edge a little closer … even consider kissing him. But now, it’s been so long … I don’t know if I’m ready, and to give him false hope would be cruel.

So, waiting, I say nothing.

~~

One night, we sit drinking. 

Arthur drinks too much – as he so often does these days – and when he’s at the maudlin stage, he takes the charred scrap of cloth from a pouch where he now keeps it, and turns it over in his hand.

Then he looks up at me, and forlornly says, “Do you think she ever loved me at all?”

I breathe a sigh. I must try to be kind. “Perhaps … a little. Less than you deserve.”

Arthur’s head drops. “Less than you once did.”

“Still do.”

“You …?”

Is he fishing? Oh, I do hope so.

“Yes, Arthur.”

“Even now?”

“Can you doubt it?”

“Even after all I’ve put you through?”

“Of course.”

He sighs, and goes quiet, apparently content, resting his forehead on his hands. He might even have gone to sleep.

To find out, I say: “Shall I pretend to be Benedicta? I’m sure Lenni will lend me a dress. She has a blue one.”

Arthur splutters. His shoulders start to shake. He almost chokes.

I slap him on the back. “Was that was a ‘no’?”

When he stops laughing, Arthur lifts his head. “Kai … I’ve missed ...” He makes a vague, drunken gesture.

“Shhh …” I put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve had too much to drink. It’s time for bed.”

He sniffs, pushes himself to his feet, and lets me help him on his way. 

~~

As the days go by, my time with Benedicta seems more and more unreal. The memory of her face begins to fade. Even the siren sound of her voice is all but lost to me.

But Kai is here, and Kai is real, and Kai wants me.

I start to miss seeing those freckles on his shoulders; feeling the smoothness of his chest under my hand, making his tan-coloured nipples stiffen to my touch; holding my breath as I watch him spread himself for me; stroking the soft golden hairs on the insides of his thighs, as his magnificent cock hardens for me.

I miss the way he used to pause, as if considering and anticipating his next move, before leaning in to kiss me, or to take me in his mouth. 

Soon … soon it will be time.

~~


	11. Chapter 11

When Benedicta left me, I was sure the sky would be forever grey; and yet the sun continues in its course … the seasons turn, and spring comes round again.

Llud begins the annual inventory, starting with our hut: checking weapons are sharp, and clothes are clean, and all’s in good repair. In the bottom of the big trunk in the corner of our chamber, he finds an old blanket.

As he examines it, he makes a face. “Oh … that’s no good. The moths have got to this. It will have to go!”

I take a look at what he’s just about to throw away, and snatch it from him. “No!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Come on, Arthur – it’s got holes in, and I must say, it smells a little … odd.”

“I’ll wash it. I’ll get Lenni to mend it!”

Llud gives me a sidelong look, then shrugs. “Alright – if you say so.”

I bear away my prize, held tightly in my arms. I’ve no intention of washing it; not on your life. I hold it to my nose, breathing in the scent of ancient jasmine oil.

With that perfume, the full remembrance of the first time Kai and I made love all but brings me to my knees. It was midsummer, and the fields were filled with poppies and red clover, and we lay down amongst them on this very blanket. In my haste and nervousness, I knocked over the oil flask Kai had thought to bring; there was just enough left for our first clumsy explorations.

The wonder of it – that I could find such ecstasy; such perfect happiness with my friend and brother … I thought myself complete.

But that bright shining feeling soon tarnished, when I chanced upon Kai, kissing someone else. For weeks after, my wretchedness knew no bounds. The love of my life still wanted others … 

I never understood, but I came to accept it, for I was his only constant.

I was sure, in my heart, that Kai loved me, alone.

Now, I’ve done the same to him as he first did to me, all those years ago.

But no. My sin’s the greater; I was just about to pledge my heart, where Kai offered those others only flesh and bone.

He’s waiting for me; but can he ever really forgive me? 

Can I forgive myself?

I clutch the blanket to my chest.

Kai emerges from the armoury, and – wiping his hands on a cloth – he comes towards me. Seeing me, he stops, and seems about to change direction, rather than force me to confront him.

But I don’t want him to disappear off somewhere, so I call out: “Ride with me!” 

My poor love. He looks behind him, as if I must be hailing someone else. In truth, I haven’t given him such a cheerful greeting in too long.

When he sees that it’s _his_ company I crave, the light of hope is bright and painful in his eyes.

“Of course! Let me …” He runs to fetch our horses from the stables.

While he’s gone, I close my eyes, and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. What if I’m not ready? I don’t want to disappoint him. 

I remember the first time our lips met in a kiss …

Kai was my first, and though I was not his, he was just as nervous as I. Now, I feel that same flutter in my belly, and as he comes back into view, riding his black mare, and leading my white stallion, Hengroen, my heart lifts – about to take wing.

“Where are we going?” he asks: a quaver in his voice.

I mount my horse. “I thought we might ride up to the escarpment.”

Kai frowns. “Has Llud heard something?” His eyes widen. “Are there Saxons coming from –?”

“No … I just thought it would be lovely. It’s so clear and calm today.” I feel my face redden. “No excuses – only you and me.” 

Kai’s face cracks open in a smile, like no other. “Then let’s go!” He urges his horse forward. 

“Yah!” My horse responds – and off we go!

~~

Arthur soon overtakes me; as he looks back over his shoulder, a smile lights up his face.

I laugh for the sheer joy of seeing him happy, and race to catch up with him again.

We gallop, neck and neck, up the sward to the top of the hill, where the rock breaks through its green mantle, rearing out over the land beneath.

Their sides heaving, and soaked with sweat, we haul our horses to a panting stop, and dismount, leaving them hitched to one of the few twisted trees that struggle to survive in this high place. Then we stand on the edge, looking out over the rolling hills and forests laid out before us.

When I see the awe and pride in Arthur’s face, I wonder how Benedicta could ever have imagined he might leave. This is his land – and mine too.

Rome could not compare.

Both at once, we say: “Isn’t it beautiful?” 

Arthur turns to me, puts a hand on my shoulder, leans in, and very softly kisses me on the mouth.

I’m afraid I’m dreaming … afraid to touch him – scare him away with the tide of passion sweeping through me, so I stay still as I can, and let him lead me … oh, where he leads me! His lips searing mine; his whole body pressed against me, thigh to thigh; our lengths stiffening, as they brush against each other through our clothes. 

Then Arthur breaks away, and starts kissing my jaw, and then my neck, with bee-sting kisses, tugging urgently at my shirt, and mouthing my shoulder, letting me feel his teeth.

“Turn around,” he says, his eyes bright.

I do as he says, of course. 

His fingers feather across my shoulder-blade. “I’ve missed these.”

“What?” I manage to croak.

“Freckles.”

“I have freckles?”

“Mm-hmm.” He plants tender kisses across my shoulder, where his fingers crept before. “And I love every one of them.” Then he pulls my shirt over my head, and drops it on the ground. 

There’s a slight breeze, but as he stands behind me, wrapping his arms about me, letting his hands wander over my chest, it’s his touch that makes my nipples harden.

Arthur lays his head against my neck. “Kai … I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

I can’t believe it. “No … it was my fault. All you did was fall in love.” I turn to face him. “If I had known what I had – claimed you as mine, instead of …” I shake my head. “It is I who must apologise. All those times I –”

“Then let us forgive each other.”

As Arthur takes my face between his hands, all I can do is nod, and close my eyes, to stop hot tears from trickling down my cheeks.

We kiss as if we’re trying not to break each other. Slowly we sink down to the grassy bank, our hands tangled in each other’s hair.

But as I lie back, something sticks into my skin. Though I try to ignore it, I can’t help but flinch.

“What is it, Kai?”

“Nothing … ow.” I sit up, and prod the ground. “Something prickles.”

Arthur gets up to fetch a blanket from behind his horse’s saddle, then he lays it on the ground.

As I tug at a corner, spreading it flat, I stare at the faded colours: blue like the rain-washed sky; the gold of autumn leaves. I caress its threadbare surface, then lean down, and breathe in a faint perfume. “Oh … I remember this …”

A smile touches Arthur’s lips. “I’m glad. But don’t get comfortable yet. There’s something I must do, before we can truly start again.” He grips my wrist, and pulls me to my feet. “Come with me, Kai, and see.”

He leads me to the edge of the escarpment, where he takes the pouch from inside his shirt, and, with a determined clenching of his jaw, tips the charred piece from Benedicta’s dress out into the void. We watch it twisting in the air; it flutters, and then drops out of sight beneath the rocky overhang.

We both breathe a sigh.

She’s gone. She’s really gone.

I kiss him fiercely. “I would not have asked that of you, but –”

“You’re welcome.”

He slips a hand down between us, letting his fingers brush against the oaken staff inside my breeches. Angels start to sing.

Feeling a little faint, I say foolishly: “Oh, thank you.”

Arthur holds me away, and grins broadly. “Is that all?”

“Oh …” I reach for him, finding him as hard as I am.

As the breeze carries the scent from the blanket to my nose, I realise … “Arthur, I didn’t bring anything to ease –”

He shakes his head. “That’s alright. I’m not sure we’re ready …”

“Nor I.”

“But can we still …?” 

He wants me to lead the way.

“Will you lie down with me?” I say.

~~

I join Kai on our blanket, and he gives me a gentle shove, telling me to roll onto my side, with him behind me.

He leans over me, brushing a lock of hair back from my face. His warm breath is soothing on my neck. Though the need thrums through him, like a song through the strings on a minstrel’s lute, he’s trying not to rush me.

A lark flutters in the blue above us, singing its heart out; our steeds swish their tails. His cock is pressed against my arse. He strokes my flank, as if I were a frightened horse.

“It’s alright,” I say. “I want this too.”

He heaves in a breath, then tugs at my waistband. “Then … may I?”

I manage a breathless: “Yes.”

Trying to hold back, I count the petals on the daisy near my nose, as Kai gently frees me, pushing my breeches to my knees.

I hear him breathe a sigh. “Arthur … it’s been so long …”

“I know. I’ve missed you.”

His body melts like liquid gold against me; kisses drop like jewels upon my neck; his love, a golden crown upon my head.

When he reaches round and takes me in his hand, I grip that hand tightly, letting him know how close I am.

“What about … you?” I gasp. “I can’t –”

“This will be just lovely.” He slips a hand between my legs; his long fingers gently stroke the insides of my thighs, and run, teasing, along the furrow behind my balls.

I make a small unmanly sound.

He shuffles, pushing down his own breeches, then I hear him spit; then feel his cock slide into the gap where his fingers went before. He gives a low moan. 

I clench my thighs. “Like this?” I ask him.

“Yes …”

He thrusts and pulls back, the head of his cock nudging against my balls with each delicious movement. Then I release, just enough to slide my hand between my legs, and run a fingertip along his prick.

“Oh, Arthur …”

His body cleaves itself to mine; his hips flex; he bites down upon my shoulder, strokes my cock. I feel him jerk; a gush of warmth between my thighs, one more swipe of his thumb over my prick, and then I’m coming too, my issue spurting out over the grass. 

“Oh, my love …” I feel Kai shudder with a sob.

“Yes … yours,” I reassure him: “And you are mine.”

He wipes his hand on our trusty blanket, then he grips my hand. “Forever?”

“Yes, forever. My hand and heart on it.”

We are quiet for a while, just breathing, hands clasped, holding each other close, Kai’s head nuzzled into my neck.

At last, he says, “We don’t have to stay stuck together the whole time, do we?”

With smiles and rueful laughter, we peel ourselves apart, clean up as best we can, and make ourselves somewhat respectable.

My stomach rumbles. “Do you know – I’m starving?”

Kai grins, as smug as any cat. “That’s why I brought lunch.” He goes to the saddlebags, and fetches a skin of wine, a hunk of bread and some hard cheese.

“That’s why you’re my right hand man. I can always rely on you to take care of the details.”

“That’s not the only reason.” Kai waggles the fingers of his right hand.

I punch him on the arm. 

As we sit near the edge, eating our bread and cheese, wine dribbling down our chins, I stare into the blue distance. “What happened to us, Kai? How could I have –”

“I was not your fault. If I had not encouraged you to follow your fancy ... I should have told you how I really felt.”

I shake my head. “I should have known without you telling me. And in my heart, I did.” I glance at Kai. “It was dishonest of me, taking you at your word.” 

Kai bites his lip. “And it was cruel of me, to go on taking women to my bed.”

“And it was foolish of me, to stand on my dignity.” I snort. “What place has dignity in love? I should have just told you it hurt me.”

Kai looks ashamed. “I knew it hurt you, Arthur. I’m sorry it took this … to make me realise how much.”

I make an angry face, and clench my fist. “Well, then I should have just shown you, by punching you on the nose.”

He grins. “You should have.” Then his face clouds, with remembered fear. “When I saw that you were truly smitten, I didn’t know what to do … stand in your way, or –” 

“Shhh.” I caress Kai’s cheek. “It’s alright now. We were just two travellers, who got lost along the way … parted by a misunderstanding, and lured from the path by a foolish butterfly.”

“Then it’s a good thing such creatures stay only for a season, and do not lead their victims back to Rome. Arthur … if she had taken you away ...” Kai’s voice cracks. “I don’t … know …”

He bows his head onto his knees, his shoulders shaking. 

“It’s alright, my love.” I hold him close, and gradually he quiets. “We got lost, but we found our way home again. And this time, it’s to stay.”

~~

Fin


End file.
